"I hope you have forgiven me for going to Camp"s Hill in your place,"
said Stella.
"I ought to be grateful to you," the Major rejoined. "No time has been lost in relieving these poor people--and your powers of persuasion have succeeded, where mine might have failed. Has Romayne been to see them himself since his return to London?"
"No. He desires to remain unknown; and he is kindly content, for the present, to be represented by me."
"For the present." Major Hynd repeated.
A faint flush pa.s.sed over her delicate complexion. "I have succeeded,"
she resumed, "in inducing Madame Marillac to accept the help offered through me to her son. The poor creature is safe, under kind superintendence, in a private asylum. So far, I can do no more."
"Will the mother accept nothing?"
"Nothing, either for herself or her daughter, so long as they can work.
I cannot tell you how patiently and beautifully she speaks of her hard lot. But her health may give way--and it is possible, before long, that I may leave London." She paused; the flush deepened on her face. "The failure of the mother"s health may happen in my absence," she continued; "and Mr. Romayne will ask you to look after the family, from time to time, while I am away."
"I will do it with pleasure, Miss Eyrecourt. Is Romayne likely to be here to-night?"
She smiled brightly, and looked away. The Major"s curiosity was excited--he looked in the same direction. There was Romayne, entering the room, to answer for himself.
What was the attraction which drew the unsocial student to an evening party? Major Hynd"s eyes were on the watch. When Romayne and Stella shook hands, the attraction stood self-revealed to him, in Miss Eyrecourt. Recalling the momentary confusion which she had betrayed, when she spoke of possibly leaving London, and of Romayne"s plans for supplying her place as his almoner, the Major, with military impatience of delays, jumped to a conclusion. "I was wrong," he thought; "my impenetrable friend is touched in the right place at last. When the splendid creature in yellow leaves London, the name on her luggage will be Mrs. Romayne."
"You are looking quite another man, Romayne!" he said mischievously, "since we met last."
Stella gently moved away, leaving them to talk freely. Romayne took no advantage of the circ.u.mstance to admit his old friend to his confidence.
Whatever relations might really exist between Miss Eyrecourt and himself were evidently kept secret thus far. "My health has been a little better lately," was the only reply he made.
The Major dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Have you not had any return--?" he began.
Romayne stopped him there. "I don"t want my infirmities made public," he whispered back irritably. "Look at the people all round us! When I tell you I have been better lately, _you_ ought to know what it means."
"Any discoverable reason for the improvement?" persisted the Major, still bent on getting evidence in support of his own private conclusions.
"None!" Romayne answered sharply.
But Major Hynd was not to be discouraged by sharp replies. "Miss Eyrecourt and I have been recalling our first meeting on board the steamboat," he went on. "Do you remember how indifferent you were to that beautiful person when I asked you if you knew her? I"m glad to see that you show better taste to-night. I wish I knew her well enough to shake hands as you did."
"Hynd! When a young man talks nonsense, his youth is his excuse. At your time of life, you have pa.s.sed the excusable age--even in the estimation of your friends."
With those words Romayne turned away. The incorrigible Major instantly met the reproof inflicted on him with a smart answer. "Remember," he said, "that I was the first of your friends to wish you happiness!" He, too, turned away--in the direction of the champagne and the sandwiches.
Meanwhile, Stella had discovered Penrose, lost in the brilliant a.s.semblage of guests, standing alone in a corner. It was enough for her that Romayne"s secretary was also Romayne"s friend. Pa.s.sing by t.i.tled and celebrated personages, all anxious to speak to her, she joined the shy, nervous, sad-looking little man, and did all she could to set him at his ease.
"I am afraid, Mr. Penrose, this is not a very attractive scene to you."
Having said those kind words, she paused. Penrose was looking at her confusedly, but with an expression of interest which was new to her experience of him. "Has Romayne told him?" she wondered inwardly.
"It is a very beautiful scene, Miss Eyrecourt," he said, in his low quiet tones.
"Did you come here with Mr. Romayne?" she asked.
"Yes. It was by his advice that I accepted the invitation with which Lady Loring has honored me. I am sadly out of place in such an a.s.sembly as this--but I would make far greater sacrifices to please Mr. Romayne."
She smiled kindly. Attachment so artlessly devoted to the man she loved, pleased and touched her. In her anxiety to discover a subject which might interest him, she overcame her antipathy to the spiritual director of the household. "Is Father Benwell coming to us to-night?" she inquired.
"He will certainly be here, Miss Eyrecourt, if he can get back to London in time."
"Has he been long away?"
"Nearly a week."
Not knowing what else to say, she still paid Penrose the compliment of feigning an interest in Father Benwell.
"Has he a long journey to make in returning to London?" she asked.
"Yes--all the way from Devonshire."
"From South Devonshire?"
"No. North Devonshire--Clovelly."
The smile suddenly left her face. She put another question--without quite concealing the effort that it cost her, or the anxiety with which she waited for the reply.
"I know something of the neighborhood of Clovelly," she said. "I wonder whether Father Benwell is visiting any friends of mine there?"
"I am not able to say, Miss Eyrecourt. The reverend Father"s letters are forwarded to the hotel--I know no more than that."
With a gentle inclination of her head, she turned toward other guests--looked back--and with a last little courteous attention offered to him, said, "If you like music, Mr. Penrose, I advise you to go to the picture gallery. They are going to play a Quartet by Mozart."
Penrose thanked her, noticing that her voice and manner had become strangely subdued. She made her way back to the room in which the hostess received her guests. Lady Loring was, for the moment, alone, resting on a sofa. Stella stooped over her, and spoke in cautiously lowered tones.
"If Father Benwell comes here to-night," she said, "try to find out what he has been doing at Clovelly."
"Clovelly?" Lady Loring repeated. "Is that the village near Winterfield"s house?"
"Yes."
CHAPTER II.
THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE.
As Stella answered Lady Loring, she was smartly tapped on the shoulder by an eager guest with a fan.
The guest was a very little woman, with twinkling eyes and a perpetual smile. Nature, corrected by powder and paint, was liberally displayed in her arms, her bosom, and the upper part of her back. Such clothes as she wore, defective perhaps in quant.i.ty, were in quality absolutely perfect. More adorable color, shape, and workmanship never appeared, even in a milliner"s picture-book. Her light hair was dressed with a fringe and ringlets, on the pattern which the portraits of the time of Charles the Second have made familiar to us. There was nothing exactly young or exactly old about her except her voice, which betrayed a faint hoa.r.s.eness, attributable possibly to exhaustion produced by untold years of incessant talking. It might be added that she was as active as a squirrel and as playful as a kitten. But the lady must be treated with a certain forbearance of tone, for this good reason--she was Stella"s mother.
Stella turned quickly at the tap of the fan. "Mamma!" she exclaimed, "how you startle me!"